


Starting Over

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tv-universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discovering that the place you thought would be your sanctuary from the undead is actually rigged to blow up around you and then having to run for your life would be the lowlight of the day for any normal person.  For Glenn, things actually seem to go <i>downhill</i> from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting Over

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season One, no farm. Written for LJ's tv_universe community for the prompt "The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing" (Walt Disney)
> 
> * * *

Discovering that the place you thought would be your sanctuary from the undead is actually rigged to blow up around you and then having to run for your life would be the lowlight of the day for any normal person. For Glenn, things actually seem to go _downhill_ from there.

First, Daryl's pickup truck breaks down about a half mile from the burning remains of the CDC. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing for Glenn, per se. Except that when he emerges from the RV to help – because Dale has been teaching him about, like, spark plugs and carburetors and shit, and he almost sort of knows what he's doing – Daryl just grunts at him and shoos him away. He wouldn't take it personally if it hadn't been for the fact that weeks of surreptitious glances and subtle eye-fucking had finally, finally culminated in the real thing between them the night before.

Well. It had culminated in one sloppy, drunken blowjob and a fumbling, semi-awkward reciprocal handjob. But he'd sort of figured that once they'd reached that point, Daryl might be a little less… skittish. Instead, the opposite appears to have happened. Now Daryl won't even look at him while he and Dale tinker with the engine, even though he hovers on the periphery of the action and tries to look helpful. Or at least not needy and pathetic.

Glenn finally climbs back into the RV and definitely doesn't pout while Rick and Shane help Daryl untie the bike from the bed of the truck and roll the pickup onto the verge. And when they're once again underway, he also doesn't stare holes into the back of Daryl's vest or imagine himself clinging on to Daryl's waist on the back of the bike or anything ridiculous like that. 

They've taken the off ramp he found on the map and have made it another two miles before Glenn sees Rick signaling for a stop in the rearview mirror. This time when Glenn drops down onto the asphalt it's to see Rick holding Lori's hair back as she upchucks her eggs and cereal into the ditch at the side of the road. His own stomach flips when the scent hits him – and seriously, that must be some pretty disgusting vomit to override the lingering char-broiled aroma of the CDC and the stench of the walkers that always lingers in the air – and he still feels a little green around the gills when he walks up to meet Rick and the others a few minutes later.

"She can't go on," Rick says.

Glenn glances at Lori, hunched against the side of the car with the back of one shaking hand pressed to her mouth. The image reminds him of something, but then she looks up and smiles feebly at him and the memory is gone. He returns the smile before looking back to Rick. "Motion sickness?"

"She's never had that before," Rick says. 

Shane swipes a hand through his hair, darts a look down the road. "We can't stay here. It ain't safe—"

"I know."

"We got nowhere to run if any of those geeks show up—"

"I know," Rick hisses. His eyes slide uneasily to Lori before he takes a few steps closer, lowers his voice. "She's probably caught some kind of bug. We just need a place to rest up for a while. Every bump in the road's makin' her nauseas."

Glenn turns away when Shane starts arguing that surely Lori can carry on for another few miles, insisting that they can make Fort Benning in a few days, that every minute counts, that there'll be medical care there. Glenn has his own ideas about the military base, most of which consist of variations of finding it overrun by walkers or being shot at by the very people they're hoping will protect them. So he tries to tune out Shane's grating voice and focus on scanning their surroundings. He smiles when he spots the two-story brick building squatting on the horizon.

"—tellin' ya, Rick, she's stronger than you know—"

"What about there?" Glenn interrupts. 

Shane scowls at him, but Rick follows his pointing finger and raises a brow. "An elementary school?"

"Got fences," Daryl says.

Glenn jerks at the voice so close to his ear, but Daryl is shading his eyes to squint into the distance, not paying any attention to him at all. In fact, he might even say that Daryl is going out of his way not to look at him. Again.

He's starting to wonder if maybe they should have stuck with the longing looks and the eye-fucking. That might have actually been less frustrating. Still, he can't stop himself from speaking up, nodding at Daryl eagerly. "It'll be safe, right?"

"Bars on the windows," Daryl continues. Glenn feels a spark of hope when Daryl's eyes flick briefly to his, but then Daryl turns to speak directly to Rick. "On the lower floor at least."

Carol tightens her grip on Sophia's shoulders, looks behind her at Lori before tugging Carl closer with her other arm. "They closed all the schools a week before everything went crazy," she puts in. 

Glenn vaguely remembers that information scrolling by on the TV screen in the break room, back when there were just a few weird stories on the news and all the journalists were speculating about some kind of advanced rabies that could infect humans. Back when he was still practically living at Gino's Pizza so he didn't have to go back to his crummy roach-infested walk-up. Back when he was saving every miserable fifty cent tip he got so he could afford to move out of Atlanta and get back to Troy where he belonged. Back before everything changed.

"Oughta be clear of walkers," T-Dog says.

"Can't be more than a mile away," Rick says. "We cut through this field here, we can cut that distance in half."

"Awww c'mon. Rick, brother, listen to me. We got to stay on course here, man," Shane says. "We start detourin', then something happens, we get cut off by walkers, we never make it to the base. I'm tellin' you, they're gonna have food there, medical supplies—"

Glenn peers over at Lori. Though her head is hanging down and her long hair partially shades her face, it's obvious that she feels miserable – and not just because of the stomach bug. If the sloping set of her shoulders didn't decide him, the fact that she's not speaking up certainly does.

He cuts Shane off again. "I vote for the school," he says.

Beside him, T-Dog murmurs agreement. Rick reaches out to clasp his shoulder, nods at Glenn. "We got a storm comin' in," Rick says. He glances at Shane – and Glenn is certain he doesn't see the irony – before shooting a quick look up at the sky. "We start now, we can get inside before we lose the light."

"Well, the best way to get started is to quit talkin' and begin doin'," Daryl says.

When Daryl turns and heads back toward his bike, Glenn doesn't hesitate to follow.

* * *

"What'd'ya think?" Rick asks.

Shane pulls away from the tiny window, tugs at the chain and padlock. "Seems quiet."

"All right," Rick says. He puts his back to the door, turns to the group gathered at the bottom of the shallow steps. "They chained everything up before they left, so that's a good sign. We break the lock, go in two at a time. It's an L-shaped corridor, so Shane and I'll take the main hallway. Daryl, you and Glenn take the left. If you come across any classroom doors that are locked, just leave 'em for now. Any unlocked, check 'em and make sure they're clear before movin' on. We meet back here before going up to the second floor. Any questions?"

Glenn opens his mouth to suggest that he team up with Shane instead. In the past he would have been ecstatic about the division of labour, pleased with anything that gave him alone-time with Daryl Dixon. But now it's become quite apparent that Daryl regrets the time they spent together the night before, maybe even is embarrassed by it. The man clearly wants nothing to do with him. Glenn envisions long awkward silences punctuated by stilted conversational gambits that are quickly shut down. He imagines their arms brushing together in the darkness of the hallway, and Daryl flinching away. He's not sure he wants to go through that.

Then he imagines never touching Daryl again, never finding out what makes him tick, and the idea is unfathomable. He closes his mouth with the words unsaid.

"What about me?" T-Dog asks.

"I need you and Dale out here keeping an eye on the perimeter. Dale, you climb up on top of the Winnie. You spot any large groups of walkers, you load everyone in the RV and hightail it out of here."

"We're not leaving you behind," Lori protests.

"We're gonna be behind closed doors, we'll be fine," Rick answers. "You'll circle back when the coast is clear." He smiles grimly at her before turning to the rest of the group. "Is everybody clear on what they have to do?"

"Ain't exactly rocket science," Daryl says.

Rick grimaces at him before he turns to chop at the padlock.

* * *

The first three classroom doors they check in their corridor are locked.

The sound of Rick and Shane's careful footsteps has long faded. Glenn sticks close to Daryl's back, plays the flashlight along the walls as they move cautiously along the dim hallway. The weak beam catches brightly coloured drawings of ladybugs and caterpillars on one bulletin board, a row of smiling young faces – the school's honour roll – on the next. He tries not to let the light dwell on the photos any more than he has to, just as he tries not to imagine the fates of the children beaming so proudly in the pictures. But he finds himself hesitating in front of one portrait, a gap-toothed smile beneath a pair of sparkling brown eyes and a mop of unruly dark hair. She could be his sister, this goofily-grinning child, and his heart suddenly aches for Millie and Samantha, for his father yelling at him to get a decent job and his mother worrying that he's too skinny, for a red brick house in the suburbs and the aroma of jeongol simmering in the pot and—

"You wanna get your ass up here, Ho Chi Minh?"

Glenn jerks the flashlight away from the image, scowls at Daryl even though the other man can't see him in the gloom of the corridor. The stupid nicknames were another thing he was hoping would get left behind in the aftermath of drunken semi-naked fun times. But Daryl's right -- getting lost in his own head, even when the coast is seemingly clear, could get him killed. It could get Daryl killed. He jogs the distance between them. "Sorry," he whispers, "I was just—"

"This one's unlocked," Daryl cuts in quietly. He juts his chin toward the small window set head-high in the door. "Flick the beam inside. Anything in there, it might come for the light."

Glenn nods. It's a tactic similar to one he's used before. On his last solo trip to Atlanta, he'd distracted a pair of walkers whose aimless wandering at the mouth of an alley was blocking his best route of the city by blowing up a couple of balloons he'd intended to bring back for the kids and setting them loose on the breeze. The geeks had caught sight of the movement and followed the balloons for half a block, long enough for Glenn to squeeze out from behind a dumpster and dart across the street. The whole mindless thing really works in the human's favour, sometimes.

He shines the beam into the room; spots some overturned desks, some papers and textbooks littering the floor. No movement beyond the flickering halo of light. He meets Daryl's eyes, shrugs and then steps back when Daryl flings his crossbow into firing position at his shoulder. He waits until Daryl nods before turning the doorknob and pulling the door open.

When Daryl steps quickly inside Glenn is hard at his heels, letting the door shut softly behind him. There's no need for the flashlight, even with the storm clouds blocking out most of the sunlight and the first droplets of rain hitting the windows. The room looks clear but he still hefts his cleaver in his hand and holds his breath when they approach the cloakroom at the back of the class. He takes up a spot on the left and waits for Daryl to get into position on the right before they both lunge toward the enclosed space.

The cloakroom is empty of everything but a lone backpack hanging on a hook.

Glenn lets out an uneven breath, then reaches out to snag the bright pink backpack. He shrugs when Daryl makes a face. "What?" he asks. "You got a problem with Hello Kitty?"

Daryl grunts, but follows him out of the cloakroom without a word.

Glenn stops halfway back to the door, his eye drawn to a shelf by the window. He shudders at the line of eviscerated frogs and rabbits displayed there, floating in their stews of embalming fluid. He waves a hand toward the grisly display.

"I failed biology," he says. "The thought of dissecting an animal, I just couldn't do it. My sister, Sam? She had a pet hamster. Stupid thing named Simon, fattest damn hamster you ever saw. And it hated me! Like I swear it would go out of its way to bite me whenever I went near it, you know? But when they brought out the guinea pigs I just kept picturing Simon and I couldn't—"

"You got somethin' important to say, or you just like hearin' yourself talk? We got other rooms to check!"

"No, but. What?" Glenn says. "It's just this is the first time we've been alone since—"

Daryl turns on him belligerently. "Since what?"

"Since I sucked you off and you reciprocated by jerking me until I came all over your hand," Glenn snaps. It's only when Daryl physically recoils that he realizes that maybe a more subtle approach would have been appropriate. But it's not like he's got any experience in how to behave in a situation like this. His previous "morning afters" always involved weak smiles and awkward breakfasts before a long and lonely walk to his car. 

"You wanna announce it to the whole damn world?" Daryl barks out. "Say it a little louder, I don't think the walkers down in Senoia heard ya!"

A part of him – the part that spent the last month studying Daryl's every move, to recognize the hidden meaning behind every sullen glare and angry outburst – is aware that Daryl's sudden aggression is probably masking a shit load of fear. But there are things he hides, too… lies that he tells himself to make it easier to get through the day. Like the fact that he hadn't seen Millie and Samantha in the two years before the turn because his parents wouldn't let him. Like the knowledge that no matter how much tip money he saved, he was never going to be welcome in that red brick house in Troy again. Like the pinched look on his mother's face when he came out, and the finality of the door shutting behind him when his father told him to leave and never come back. 

It's that part of him that snaps like a string that's been stretched too tight, that makes him whirl on Daryl angrily.

"Why not? I'll shout it from the rooftops," Glenn bites out. "I'm not ashamed of who I am!"

"The hell you talkin' about?"

Glenn snorts. "Just because you're having some kind of Big Gay Panic—"

"You gotta put a label on everything, is that it?"

Glenn opens his mouth-- 

"What we do is our own damn business! Gotta follow me around makin' googly eyes all damn day?"

\-- and closes it again, blinks at Daryl across the overturned desks. 

Okay, so maybe he was a little… overzealous. Once they'd put some distance between themselves and the walkers who were drawn like moths to a flame by the explosion, they'd pulled over to make sure everyone was okay. And fine, looking back on it Glenn does realize that he might have been sticking to Daryl like glue as they milled about on the interstate, catching their breath. And all right, maybe he was a little too overeager to jump in whenever Daryl spoke, to take up a place next to him at the guardrail when they went over their options, to stare at him as he paced along the edge of the road keeping a wary eye out for stray geeks.

Now that he thinks of it, he does remember Lori and Andrea giving him strange looks just before he got back in the RV.

"Oh," he says softly.

"Yeah, 'oh'," Daryl repeats.

"I just thought—"

"Ain't ashamed of nothin'. Just don't need Walsh and the women all up in my business."

Glenn slips his cap off, sweeps his hand through his hair. The adrenaline rush of his anger slides abruptly away, replaced by what he can only describe as something warm and altogether fuzzy. But he still needs to make sure things are perfectly clear. When that door shut behind him back in Troy – when he stood on the sidewalk and watched his father deliberately close the curtains – he knew that there was no going back. "I get that," he says, "but you should know that I suck at keeping secrets. I'm not good at hiding what I am or who I am or what I feel—"

"Ain't asking ya too," Daryl says. He slides his crossbow to his back, pushes past him to the door. "Just sayin' ya don't gotta be so damn…"

"Clingy?" Glenn tries, grinning. "Obtrusive? Stalkerish? Obvious?"

"Pick a damn word," Daryl mutters as he pushes open the door.

Glenn is grinning, feeling lighter than he has in weeks – lighter, perhaps, than he has since he saw his father's figure fade back into the shadows of the living room – when the walker surges through the doorway. He stops, stunned and frozen for an infinitesimal moment that seems like a lifetime. He has time to register the walker's dark blue work shirt, the school's name stitched onto the pocket, the tool belt at his waist. He hears Daryl grunt in surprise. He sees Daryl reach for his knife as the thing staggers into him, but the force of its momentum sends Daryl tumbling backward over one of the desks, the knife skittering away across the linoleum. The sound of Daryl's head hitting the floor breaks the shock that has him paralyzed. Daryl manages to get one arm up under the walker's chin even as Glenn is scrambling across the room, the geek's eager snarls ringing in his ears, the snapping of its jaws inches from Daryl's face muffling the slap of his sneakers as he darts across the floor. He fists a hand in the walker's hair, sees Daryl turn away to shield his face a moment before he buries his cleaver in the walker's skull. The geek goes limp, and together they push the dead thing off Daryl's body.

The whole experience only takes about fifteen seconds, but he's breathing sharply, hands on his knees, when Daryl stands up beside him and claps a hand on the small of his back. "You're okay?" he gasps out, angling his head to glance up at Daryl. "Not bit?"

Daryl shakes his head, then leans down to pull the cleaver from the walker's skull. Glenn grimaces at the thick squelching sound as it slides free, but still stands straight and takes it when Daryl shoves it into his hand.

"Nice job," Daryl says with a nod as he adjusts his crossbow and heads back out into the hallway. "Think I might keep you around, even if you are mental."

Glenn finds himself smiling again as he follows.

* * *

They settle in a series of classrooms on the second floor. Glenn helps T-Dog and Andrea pile the extra desks into a storage room at the end of the hall, then leads a foraging party to the cafeteria to see what they can scrounge up. They find a veritable treasure trove of goods – jumbo-sized cans of baked beans and kernel corn, boxes of powdered milk and potatoes, a cupboard filled entirely with pasta noodles and cans of chicken noodle soup. He exchanges giddy looks with the others. Nobody says it aloud, but he's pretty sure everyone's in agreement that they won't be moving on to Fort Benning anytime soon.

He's in the classroom that Rick and Lori have commandeered, discussing with Rick how best to set up a firepit and cooking station on the roof, when Daryl shoulders open the door and drags in a pair of blue gym mats. He drops them next to where Lori is sitting with her feet on the seat of a desk, nudges at the corner of one with the toe of his boot until it lays flat.

"Found 'em in the gym," Daryl says. "Not much, but better'n sleepin' on the bare floor."

He tries to step aside, but Lori is quick and she reaches out to snag his arm before he can make his escape. She looks better already, with a belly full of chicken soup and ginger ale, and her smile is soft and sincere. "Thank you."

Daryl shrugs. "Got watch now, but I'll bring some more of 'em up later."

"I'll help," Rick says. "Oughta be enough to spread them around for everyone."

Daryl nods, then glances at Glenn and juts his chin toward the door. Glenn ignores Rick's curious glance – and Lori's knowing one – before he follows Daryl into the hallway. He leans against the wall, because he really wants to nuzzle up against Daryl's side but he's trying to respect his need for space. Then he crosses his arms in front of his chest for good measure, tucks his hands under his armpits so they don't get any roving ideas that he can't immediately quelch. His eyes are probably still googly, but he can't do much about that. "What's up?" 

"Took the room at the end of the hall," Daryl says. 

Glenn follows his gaze, but one doorway looks the same as the next. "Okay," he says.

"Was the music room. Kinda small."

Glenn frowns. It's true that he's spent the last few weeks studying Daryl, but he clearly missed a few pages in the Dixon Handbook. "Okay," he repeats skeptically. 

"Ain't no gutted animals on the shelves or nothin'."

The light bulb goes on then, and he smiles. "Okay."

There is no red brick house, no Korean delicacies cooking on the stove, no parents eagerly awaiting his return from the big city. That hasn't been an option for a long time. 

But there is a schoolhouse, and good food to fill his stomach. There are people who care about him, who will watch his back no matter what. There is a man who may be halfway to falling in love with him… and that's the best thing, because he more than halfway loves him back.

Glenn can't help laughing. 

Daryl doesn't lose the tentative smile on his face, even when he nudges him and grunts out, "What's so damn funny?"

"No, sorry," Glenn says. "It's just… I really thought this day was going to suck."

Daryl huffs out a breath. "Found out the whole world's gone to shit, got locked in a building by some fruitcake, nearly got blown up, almost got eaten by a fuckin' walker. I'd say you were right."

"No, it's turned out to be a pretty amazing day," Glenn argues. He pushes off from the wall, gives into temptation and leans into Daryl. The man doesn't flinch away, doesn't make a face. Glenn smiles again. "Let's go get my bag and move it into our room."

That red brick house was always too big anyway. A music room sounds just right.


End file.
